


A Different State of Matter

by void_star



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Inhuman!Trip, Non-graphic murder of nameless SHIELD agents, Nonverbal Communication, Trip Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 12:05:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5827891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/void_star/pseuds/void_star
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The completely canonical account of what Trip got up to after the S2 mid-season finale.  (Whether the AoS writers know that it's canonical is beside the point.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Different State of Matter

Trip wondered why he was still alive, and how long it was going to last. That _stuff_ from the 0-8-4 had grown all the way over, into, and through his body; he’d always assumed once people got petrified by that thing, that was it, lights out. _You know, as big a fan as I am of the whole being alive thing, if I end up indefinitely conscious but unable to talk or move it’s going to get old eventually._

Seconds oozed by and nothing happened. Trip thought that a little telepathic link to go with the paralysis wasn’t too much to ask of weird alien tech; then he could chat with Skye and chew Raina out for trying to do…whatever the hell she was trying to do. Beyond ‘cataclysmic, possibly world-ending’ they hadn’t managed to get a lot of info on what the obelisk was supposed to do.

There was a barely audible cracking, and chunks of the stuff started to fall away. Falling _through_ Trip’s body, to be more precise, which was a thoroughly weird sensation. He could see now—there was something off about his vision, but he could see rock-like fragments shedding off of Raina and exploding outward from Skye.

If he and Skye made it out of this alive he was going to declare today the Best Day Ever and celebrate its anniversary with as much ice cream as the two of them could eat.

_Wait, why is Skye looking at me like that?_

* * *

Trip forced himself to stay calm. So no one could see him. So he couldn’t make any sound. He _could_ still move, which was something. His eyes—assuming he still had eyes, which he wasn’t so sure of—focused on scattered, shifting patches instead of one area. The boundaries of his body were vague and nebulous; someone had walked right through him more than once.

_Aww, come on. I don’t even believe in ghosts. This is ridiculous._ If he was a ghost he should at least be able to haunt people properly. Like, say, Raina the alien porcupine, who was currently sneaking up on a SHIELD agent with possibly murderous intent. _Oh no you don’t._

He lunged at her head, only to have nothing whatsoever happen. Raina glanced in the direction he had come from, then went back to murderous sneaking. Trip did some approximation of a flinch when she killed the agent, furious that he couldn’t do anything to stop it. _Okay, okay,_ think _, Raina reacted, that meant she felt something. Maybe if I lunge at the next agent she tries to attack they’ll feel something too, and look._

The next agent Raina attacked didn’t show any sign of having felt Trip. _Dammit._

Trip didn’t know the agents’ names, but they’d signed up to help fight Hydra, same as him, and they deserved better.

They deserved a teammate who could actually _do_ something.

* * *

Trip followed a random agent who said something about heading back to base, hoping that Fitz or Simmons had lab equipment that could detect him. The agent climbed into a quinjet and closed the door. Trip tried to go through the solid door only to splatter against it. _Oh. Great. So solid objects can go through me, but I can’t go through solid objects._

Trip wandered around the quinjet, hoping to find some other opening he could go through. The turbines turned on while he was under them, blasting him against the ground. He tried to squirm away, and ended up being blown outward.

* * *

When Trip finally made it back to the Playground he just floated for a bit, letting himself waft around the room on random air currents. Then he headed for the lab.

He spent the next hour wiggling, dashing back and forth, and spiraling around the room in deliberate spurts whenever someone turned on any piece of equipment. Unfortunately, the equipment was being turned on to examine samples from the alien city, so any and all strange reading were explained as ‘because alien city’. Apparently, alien city bits caused random air currents, which the scientists found fascinating, and also gave off some sort of really weird gas, which freaked out the scientists and caused them to lock down the lab temporarily.

Said really weird gas huffed irritably at being trapped inside an airtight room for several hours. Trip was at a loss for how to communicate ‘okay, so I’m an alien gas cloud thing, but I’m a _nice_ alien gas cloud thing’. The slight prickling sensation from where they’d taken a sample of him gradually spread and then dissipated.

* * *

Skye was sitting in quarantine, looking dejected and miserable. Trip pressed himself against the glass, flattening out like a pancake.

Even if she couldn’t see him, he wanted to be there for her. Trip looked around the room, then went for a promising air vent. The spaces inside were tiny—no way a regular human could fit—but Trip flowed through the cracks easily. Skye was sitting on her bed; he settled down next to her. He rested a small portion of his mass on her shoulder, the best approximation of a comforting hand that he could manage.

* * *

Trip followed Simmons down the hall. Trying to get her attention in the lab hadn’t worked, but a scientist who was used to dealing with weird things—who knew Trip well—still seemed like his best bet for figuring out how to have a conversation with someone. He just needed to try when there wasn’t any other scientific weirdness in the room.

Simmons went into her room and shut the door; Trip slipped in with her before realizing that if she decided to get undressed now it would be really awkward.

Instead Simmons sat down on her bed and started crying.

She was mostly silent except for a few choked sobs, but her whole body shook and her face crumpled. Usually people covered their faces when they cried like that, but she thought she was alone.

“Trip…” she whispered.

_I’m here, I’m right here, I—_

Tears started dripping off her cheeks, and Trip didn’t know what to do. Nothing he could think of felt even remotely adequate.

* * *

When Coulson mentioned to May that he was going to visit Trip’s mother, Trip tagged along for the ride. There wouldn’t be any weird alien stuff at his mom’s apartment; no easy way to dismiss unexplained occurrences. Plus, his mom kept a sane work schedule, so unlike Trip’s friends at SHIELD she wouldn’t be too busy during weekends.

And—well. They’d known each other a lot longer. There were literally decades worth of inside jokes Trip could use in his efforts to communicate with his mom.

* * *

While his mom was in the next room, Trip practiced swishing the curtains in the living room.

He had enough control now to make one of the curtains fan outward gracefully; he could push on it with short puffs, or longer gusts.

Short short short. Long, long, long. Short short short.

_S.O.S._ in Morse code was brief, recognizable, and pretty close to what Trip wanted to communicate. _And knowing Mom…a call for help is probably the fastest way to get her attention._

Now, Trip just had to get her into the room with the curtains. There was a vase with flowers sitting on the coffee table. Trip lunged at it, tipping it far enough that it fell over with a crash. Water spilled out onto the table, filling in the spaces between the flower stems, and Trip mentally held his breath.

He heard the sound of his mom getting up in the other room.

“Is someone there?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to dirgewithoutmusic and Kordalien for betaing


End file.
